Raw and ruthless. To dispatch these verminous ghosts, fancy words are needless. No soothing pleas, no moral debates—simply slay them.
"Hohoho… Is this the mighty authority of the Yin Office?" mocked the rotund figure. "Mo Yin-si, quite the official airs! Enforcing underworld law is one thing, but swaggering through the living realm—impressive indeed!"
A lone specter jeered, its tone dripping with sarcasm, provoking an almost comical tableau.
"Reveal yourselves," Mo Lin commanded.
The lead ghost recognized him, but Mo Lin could not place him—his guise wore the stench of decay. "Mo Yin-si, your memory fails you! The Yin-Grey Domain—recall it?" the corpulent spirit intoned.
Of course Mo Lin remembered the Yin-Grey Domain: his first posting in the netherworld, the jurisdiction he once governed. "Two-thirds of its denizens perished—you know that well," the ghost continued.
"I know," Mo Lin replied quietly. "Many of my closest allies fell that night…"
Suddenly, Mo Lin's eyes narrowed, his aura surging. An invisible gale radiated from him, and the ruby glow of his Yin-Office robe flared.
"So you recall me… Gong Xiu," the ghost admitted, voice laced with cold pride. Mo Lin's lips curved in recognition: Gong Xiu, the fiend who had slaughtered over a hundred thousand ghosts in the Yin-Grey Domain. Their cries had echoed like a nightmare across the underworld. Mo Lin himself had narrowly escaped, spared only by the sacrifice of a few loyal spirits before King Yama intervened.
"Old scores and fresh blood debt alike shall be paid," Mo Lin vowed, his tone glacial.
"Hohoho… Such bravado, Mo Yin-si—sounds just like your master. You think I came alone? I've been preparing for this over a month." With that, Gong Xiu produced a bone-forged staff topped by a skull, from which the mournful cries of trapped children emanated—an unholy Yin Instrument bound with youthful blood and souls.
Li Hui rose slowly. "Allow me to assist Mo Lin."
"Why intervene now, after warning us to stand aside?" protested Qing Yun.
"I warned you not to meddle; I never claimed I wouldn't," Li Hui replied calmly. Witnessing Gong Xiu's diabolical relic, his resolve steeled: such monsters must be purged.
Mo Lin drew his sword and charged, unleashing his Soul-Shattering Technique. Ghostly chains, razor slashes, spectral clones, mimicry, and a shroud of mist struck Gong Xiu relentlessly. The malignant instrument could not withstand the onslaught; Gong Xiu staggered, his corpse-shell shattering to reveal his true horrific form. Li Hui watched in stunned awe—Mo Lin's prowess exceeded all expectations.
Soul-Chain missed its mark and cleaved into the wooden pavilion, splintering beams in a thunderous crash. As anticipated, Mo Lin then unleashed his War-Blade Art: serried black blades sliced through the air, demolishing an entire row of ancestral halls as though tearing down a household façade.
"Enough gawking—attack!" Gong Xiu bellowed, summoning three ghastly allies. They shed their cadaver hosts, revealing their true spectral forms, and closed in on Mo Lin.
"Assailants? I have my own," Mo Lin declared, summoning reinforcements by name:
"Chen Xi!""Chu Xing!""Hong Ye!""Yu Gu!""Gan Liangjun!""Rong Feng!"